Thursday, May 03, 2007


Post-partum depression sucks.

It's real and it sucks.

Oh, and guess what I found out this week? I will never be allowed to adopt from Ethiopia or China. Why? Because I care enough about my children to take a pill while going through this crap so as to not be a blubbering idiot on my bed in a dark room for months on end. So glad to know that me on a stupid pill is worse than that hovel the child is currently living in. Fantastic.


Queen of the Mayhem said...

Oh SISTER! I feel your pain....been there...done that! I started on Lexapro when I was 4 months pregnant with Junior Mayhem. I don't think Mr. Mayhem could have lived through another episode like after I had The Princess!

Screw the Ethiopians and don't need them! :)

Melanie Dickerson said...

Ditto what Queen said. You can adopt all you want right here without the hassle. Hey, girl, it's better to do something than to suffer. Believe it or not, the publisher of a very small local mag called Valley Babies asked me yesterday if I would write an article on Post-Partum Depression. I can sympathize, because I had PPD, too. It's one of the reasons I'm not planning on having any more kiddos!!!

Melanie-Pearl said...

Unfortunately, I can also empathize.

The day after I had Chloe one of the very first two girls I told I was pregnant (9 mos earlier) was murdered for the piddly money in her sandwich shop cash drawer. The other girl (Tammi) and I were put on anti-depressants at the same time.

Maybe it had little to do with Amy's murder, and more to do with being just married, keeping house, having a baby, getting a job and finishing that semester of college. At any rate, it helped that Tammi and I were on the meds together. We didn't feel so mental because both of us knew each other through more sane times.

I was only on the stuff for several months. I could tell when I was better. Since then, I've been on it one other time, but it has always been just a short while and then I'm better. It is amazing how the loop-thought stuff gets going and how just stopping it for awhile stops it altogether.

One more thing: if my husband wouldn't have told the doctor how badly I needed help, I'd hate to see where my proud self would be today. It was bad, but I was pretty good at downplaying it.

So, I'm proud of you for taking this on.